The Tower
by Superagaentv
Summary: Inspired by The Hunchback of Notre Dome. The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Round 9 - A Very Potter DisneyLand.


A couple of seasons back there was a round all about basing fics off classic fairytales. Seeing as it was pretty popular, we're bringing that idea back again. Only this time, we've given each position a classic Disney animated film to incorporate into your story somehow.

This story doesn't have to be a complete re-write, nor does it have to be an AU; write your given prompt in however you please. Just remember that judges will be looking for originality!

 **SEEKER:** The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Option 1: Listen to one of the pieces linked above and write a song that is inspired somehow by that song. Ideas: listen to the song as you write, write a story that reflects the tone of the piece, write a piece that occurs during one of those time periods.

Guillaume de Mauchat is a very famous composer from this time period. Le Messe de Nostre Dame is a notable composition of his. The video I've linked shows the original score in the notation of the time. Then, skip to 05:13 to look at how it looks on today's staff. I'd recommend listening to Kyrie for at least two minutes so you can catch onto some of the patterns, but more is better.

AN: This is based off both the novel _**The Hunchback of Notre-Dame**_ _by Victor Hugo and the Disney version. I have used the lyrics for God Help the Outcasts within the fic, and I have also added inspiration from Hellfire._

* * *

 _God help the outcasts_

 _Hungry from birth_

 _Show them the mercy_

 _They don't find on earth_

The curls of her long dark hair swirled as she turned, the rich colour of her silk scarf brought out the freckles on her dark skin, those doe like eyes caught his attention as they always did.

He had seen her before, on many occasions, and now she was here, close enough to touch.

He could smell the herbs in her hair, peppermint, lavender, thyme, and basil, all clinging to her molten locks. She had wandered into his herb garden this morning.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stepping back, moving so that there was a distance between them – she could feel the heat from where his hand had been on her back.

"I was imagining my hands going round that filthy neck of yours," he whispered, not taking a step closer, lowering his icy blue eyes to meet her dark orbs evenly. "Instead of the Dark Lord's."

"Liar," she replied, pulling the scarf closer around her. Ron and Harry had escaped from the Snatchers in the woods, while she had been taken nearly to the foot of evil and, thanks to a surprise ally, she had been given temporary sanctuary here, in the Malfoy house. For the moment, they were alone. "I know what you were thinking," she continued, "For shame, you're old enough to be my father."

He felt his lip curl back as he watched her, both his hands curling around his cane. "You can't stay here forever, your usefulness to the Dark Lord and his plans will run out. " He leaned in, taking in her defiant expression. "Sooner rather than later."

"Father," a low voice called, and a body followed soon after, emaciated and weathered. "A letter for you, from the Dark Lord."

"Ah, you see," he smiled, straightening, "I might have my way with you yet."

Silence lingered in the place of awkwardness. As promised, though quite uncharacteristically, she had been unharmed by the family whose possession she had been delivered into.

"Did he hurt you?"

Looking up, unaware she had suddenly taken to staring at the floor, Hermione blinked at the shadow of the boy. He was gaunt; his eyes seemed sunken into his head. His once flawless skin was littered with fresh scars. His hands, almost mangled. "No, just…"

"Do you want to come up into the Tower with me?" His question was the same as it was everyday, and today she really didn't want to be alone in this huge house, waiting for Lucius Malfoy to pop up in dark corners.

She nodded, offering him a smile. "Am I really allowed in your bedroom?"

"Well," Draco blushed, humming and hawing. "The Tower is...isn't really a bedroom." He led her upstairs, unaware of the pair of blue eyes was watching them from behind a pillar. "It is more of a private studio."

"An art studio?" She felt stupefied, as if she had been hit with a stunning spell once again, as they climbed the winding staircase. "But— you—"

"Don't look like an artist?" he offered, not bothering to fake a smile. "I wasn't until these last two years." They exchanged expressions. Her's one of soft surprise, his; vulnerable.

"I needed something, anything, to-" he sighed, placing a hand on old wooden door.

She touched his back, where through the shirt she could feel the raised welts from recent beatings, and nodded. "I wish you could have come to me."

He gave her a severe look before relaxing, "Would you have listened?"

Thinking about this for a moment, Hermione nodded slowly. "If you had made an honest effort to try and talk to me as we are now, yes. I would never turn another human being away."

"Not even Lavender?"

Wincing, she nodded. "Even Lavender."

He opened up the door to the Tower and gently took her hand, leading her inside, watching as her eyes sparkled in the tiny shards of glass.

"You make glass figures," she spoke, her voice clearly in awe, "Draco, it's so beautiful."

"Like you."

"No, you thi—"

"My father always said that Mudbloods were evil," Draco whispered, walking over to a large yellow creation; glass having been pulled into the shape of a flower. "But you aren't evil. You're intelligent, kind and brave. If that isn't beauty then I don't know what is."

"Wow, I—" Hermione gaped, "I had no idea."

"No one does." He offered her a rare smile. "I hadn't decided to tell you but...I didn't know if I would ever get another chance. We could both die tomorrow."

"Or just me," she stated darkly, looking at the floor.

"I won't let them," he growled, stepping closer to her, touching her arm. "I got them to keep you here once. I can get them to do it again. Potter is a fool to abandon you, after all you've done." She said nothing, her face not revealing what her heart or head felt in that moment. "Hermione, save me." he paused, "Let save you."

"Draco," a voice drawled, sending shivers down both their spines. "Step away from the Mudblood."

Like a dog who has been frequently whipped by it's master, Draco sank away; up against the wall, looking at the floor. Hermione felt pity swirl like fresh sea foam in her stomach, hating to see a child treated this way by a parent.

"I knew your kind was ignoble, but I did not think you would stoop so low as to seduce my own flesh and blood," he growled, his jealously barely containable, towering over the witch. "What with your…" his trailed down her figure, lingering in some areas a moment too long. " chocolate skin," reaching out, he touched her cheek - her eyes going wide at the sudden unwanted contact. "And unholy," his hand trailed down to her neck, then slowly, lower, over exposed skin. "flesh."

"Don't touch her!" Draco shouted, suddenly launching himself at his father, catching the man off guard; his cane clattering. Both bodies collapsed to the floor as delicate glass shattered into a million tiny, rainbow, shards at her feet.

"Hermione!" a familiar voice called out from outside, and she moved quickly to the window where Harry was far above them on a broom. "Hermione!?"

"Harry!" she called out, waving her arms to catch his attention. "Down here!"

"No," Lucius called out, trying to push his son off him. "He can't have her. She shall be mine. Don't let her get away!"

Harry, being the Quidditch player he was, saw her quickly. Easing the broom up to the window, he extended his hand to her grasping her forearm tightly as she climbed onto the window sill.

Stopping, Harry gave her a confused look, watching as she turned back at meet the eyes the eyes of the boy she might once have called a monster. Looking back at Harry, Hermione let go of his arm. "One minute."

"We don't have one minute, Hermione!" he hissed, leaning closer to the tower window, watching as she walked hastily over to where Draco was holding his father down, pulling something out of her bag as she went.

"What are you doing?" Draco breathed, "Go!"

"Drink this," she told him, pressing a small vial into his hand, her voice a merely whisp into his ear as she spoke. "To save yourself." Gently touching his jaw, she kissed him. Just once. His lips were soft and tender, trembling, for he knew—as well as she—that this would be their last meeting. "Goodbye."

She flew to the window, taking Harry's arm and getting herself firmly seated behind him on the broom she could hear the wind whisper, "I love you."

She hoped he found the love he deserved in the afterlife, as he had so deserved in this life.

 _The lost and forgotten_

 _They look to you still_

 _God help the outcasts_

 _Or nobody will_


End file.
